1290. Though suffering and chaos befall us, they can never quench the inner light of providence. ~John O’Donohue

Each life is clothed in raiment of spirit
that secretly links it to everything else.
~John O’Donohue

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There is a quiet light that shines in every heart. It draws no attention to itself though it is always secretly there. It is what illuminates our minds to see beauty, our desire to seek possibility and our hearts to love life. Without this subtle quickening our days would be empty and wearisome, and no horizon would ever awaken our longing. Our passion for life is quietly sustained from somewhere in us that is wedded to the energy and excitement of life. This shy inner light is what enables us to recognize and receive our very presence here as blessing. ~John O’Donohue

You will eat the fruit of your labor; blessings and prosperity will be yours. ~Psalm 128:2  ✝

**All quotes via TO BLESS THE SPACE BETWEEN US, A Book of Blessings, by John O’Donohue; photo of Moonflower taken by Natalie

1288. Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!!! We did it…

‘tis almost mid-autumn and the last day of this month!
And as of today we’ve set a record here for having
the warmest October ever! The wind yet blows from
the south so I’m still wearing tank tops and shorts!
Yay! Yippie! Hooray! NOT!!! Where oh where
is our cool autumn for goodness sakes!

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O wind, rend open the heat,
cut apart the heat,
rend it to tatters.
Fruit cannot drop
through this thick air–
fruit cannot fall into heat
that presses up and blunts
the points of pears
and rounds the grapes.
Cut the heat–
plough through it,
turning it on either side
of your path.
~Hilda Doolittle

And when the south wind blows, you say, ‘It’s going to be hot,’ and it is. ~Luke 12:55  ✝

930. The spirits of the air live on the smells of fruit; and joy, with pinions light, roves round the gardens, or sits singing in the trees. ~William Blake

And November sad,—a psalm
Tender, trustful, full of balm,
Thou must breathe in spirits calm.
~Caroline May

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I like spring, but it is too young. I like summer, but it is too proud. So I like best of all autumn, because its tone is mellower, its colours are richer, and it is tinged with a little sorrow. Its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring, nor the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and its content. ~Lin Yutang

I will send you rain in its season, and the ground will yield its crops and the trees their fruit. ~Leviticus 26:4  ✝

**Image via Pinterest

893. . The nature of God is a circle of which the center is everywhere and the circumference is nowhere. ~Empedocles

The moon is most happy
When it is full.
And the sun always looks
Like a pernfectly minted gold coin
That was just polished
And placed in flight by God’s playful kiss.

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And so many varieties of fruit
Hang plump and round
From branches that seem like a sculptor’s hands.
I see the beautiful curve of a pregnant belly
Shaped by a soul within,
And the earth itself,
And the planets and the spheres–-

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I have gotten the hint:
There is something about circles
The Lord likes.
~Hafez, 14th century Persian Poet

He sits enthroned above the circle of the earth, and its people are like grasshoppers. He stretches out the heavens like a canopy, and spreads them out like a tent to live in. ~Isaiah 40:22  ✝

He drew a circle that shut me out– heretic, rebel, a thing to flout–
but Love and I had wit to win, we drew a circle which took him in…
~Poem by Edwin Markham sent to me by Julie Cook at:
http://cookiecrumblestoliveby.com

**Images via Pinterest; collages created by Natalie

816. There is no spot of ground, however bare and ugly, that cannot be tamed into such a state as may give an impression of beauty and delight. ~Gertrude Jekyll

Eeny meeny miny moe
which roses now do I grow…
There are red ones, pink ones,
very, very bright yellow ones,
spotted ones, striped ones,
and 
even two-toned ones.
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Then there are the apricot
colored ones, and the purplish ones,
the small ones and the big ones,
the old ones and the new ones,
and so, my oh my, how will I ever
choose the ones I want to plant
this time around?
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A tree had to be felled along our north fence last fall, and as a result what used to be a relatively shady, and somewhat overgrown and unruly area, is now getting lots and lots of sunshine, so much so in fact that the white azaleas that were planted along there decades ago have all but died now. As sad as they may be it grants me the fun of new ground to be “tamed.” Thus, despite the dreadful heat I’ve been working early in the morning and/or at dusk doing as much as the “taming” as I can do. Now it’s time to call in the strong, younger guys with the big, powerful “taming” devices to do the rest. Then after they come and get their part done, I shall cover the ground with landscaping fabric and in the fall peruse my catalogs to choose what new roses and clematis I want to plant in the new spot of “tamed” ground. Ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching is all old James thinks of when I go a’ tamin’ but he sure enjoys his braggin’ rights when people come in our yard. And who am I to deny him such pleasure?! Hee hee!
**Sow righteousness for yourselves, reap the fruit of unfailing love, and break up your unplowed ground; for it is time to seek the Lord, until he comes and showers his righteousness on you. ~Hosea 10:12  ✝
**Some images via Pinterest and some from my archives

776. Hear blessings dropping their blossoms around you. ~Rumi

Poetry isn’t a profession,
it’s a way of life.
It’s an empty basket;
you put your life into it
and make something out of that.
~Mary Oliver

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A tisket, a tasket
A green and rosy basket.
The wind blew a thistle’s seed.
On the way to elsewhere.
It blew it,
it blew it,
The seed that made my basket.
~Natalie Scarberry

(Basket-flower, also called American star thistle, is annual garden and wildflower native to southwestern North America. Resembling a spineless thistle, it has stout branching stems, and when the rose-coloured compact heads of disk flowers appear they are surrounded by fringed bracts, similar in appearance to a woven basket. Their seeds are borne in achene fruits and are wind-dispersed. These thistles are commonly planted in gardens to attract birds and butterflies.) I’d been watching this plant for months as I’d not seen one in my yard before, and so I wasn’t sure at first what it was. Then when it started putting on its baskets I knew it was an American thistle. And since the wind had blown it in, it was almost as if the blessing of blossoms had dropped from above. If you remember the nursery rhyme that started out like the first line of my silly little poem, it should sound more or less the same as the original if you sing along with the words. And I probably should ask Mary Oliver to forgive me for quoting her along with my feeble attempt at such.)

Thus the Lord God showed me, and behold there was a basket of summer fruit (or in my case, a basket thistle). ~Amos 8:1  ✝

735. Be empty of worrying…. Why do you stay in prison when the door is so wide open? Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking. ~Rumi, as interpreted by Coleman Barks

I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days, to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid, more accessible,
to loosen my heart until it becomes a wing, a torch, promise.
I choose to risk my significance; to live so that which came
to me as seed goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as a blossom, goes on as fruit.
~by Dawna Markova

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Grass

~by Mary Oliver

Those who disappointed, betrayed, scarified! Those who would still put their hands upon me! Those who belong to the past!

How many of us have weighted the years with groaning and weeping? How many years have I done it how many nights spent panting hating grieving, oh, merciless, pitiless remembrances?

I walk over the green hillsides, I lie down on the harsh, sun-flavored blades and bundles of grass; the grass cares nothing about me, it doesn’t want anything from me, it rises to its own purpose, and sweetly, following, the single holy dictum: tto be itself, to let the sky be the sky, to let a young girl be a young girl freely–to let a middle-aged woman, be comfortably, a middle-aged woman.

Those bloody sharps and flats–those endless calamities of the personal past. Bah! I disown them from the rest of my life, in which I mean to rest.

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Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. ~Psalm 23:4    ✝

**Lord, thank you for this faithful promise above and for the blessed encounter today with someone who, whenever I see her, never fails to put the wind, the holy ruach, back under the frail wings, the torch, and the promise of this aging woman.

**Both images via Pinterest